


Mavis - Anatomy of a Relationship

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 13:30:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17407799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Told from the viewpoint of Mavis Newkirk, Peter Newkirk's younger sister, over a period of time.





	Mavis - Anatomy of a Relationship

*** In The Beginning:

She'd never really liked the girl, the one her big brother called 'the Brat', never trusted her since she'd arrived to study with Maude and Marisol, and then, so unexpectedly, with Peter as well. Caeide O'Donnell was just too different, and her eyes went from innocent to far too knowing and back again far too quickly for Mavis's peace of mind. It was disturbing to see how her older brother took to the girl; {"trouble just waiting to happen, mark my words"}. She tried to talk him out of that mad scheme of acting as her Mentor, argued with Maude and Marisol to no avail. Somehow, those two women, who you'd have thought would have more sense, they seemed to just not see how odd she was, how dangerous she was.

Later, well into the year, when Mavis saw how the others in the neighborhood now treated the Brat, not like an interloper, not like a potential victim, more like a fellow predator, she knew she'd been right. This girl was trouble.

At least Peter seemed to be acting sensible, always careful not to let things get out of hand. Still, there had been a couple of times when he'd gotten bunged up, and his tale just hadn't run quite true. Mavis wondered if the girl hadn't been mixed up in it, gotten him hurt by some of her nonsense with him trying to keep her safe. Well, maybe not; not like Peter couldn't get himself in trouble without anyone's help; he was an expert at that. Maude had given Mavis a bit of a lecture, some foolishness about her being jealous, which was just silly. No, she didn't like her brother spending all that time with the little chit, but that was just common sense. Amazing how the girl had them all so taken-in!

Still, Mavis was more than a little relieved when the year was up, and that annoying Brat was headed off for home. She was a little disappointed to see Peter wasn't so happy about that, but was sure he'd come around, be back to his old self soon enough. That didn't keep him from mentioning her every now and again, him and Maude and Marisol too; seems they'd taking up writing to each other, something Mavis found rather annoying, but decided would soon come to an end, Peter never having been much for keeping up a correspondence. No, Peter was much better off forgetting about that annoying girl, going back to spending his attention on his card games and bar maids and shop girls and the occasional high-tonned lady who drifted across his path. Not nearly so dangerous, none of them. None of them good enough for her brother, no, but Mavis was sure that someday the right one would come along, the one she'd be content at Peter settling down with.

 

***

Someone said they thought they'd seen that girl, that Caeide, the Brat, back in the neighborhood, now, after being gone for a full two years. Caeide, the one who spent that year with Maudie, the one Peter had ended up teaching. I knew they must have been mistaken. The annoying little chit would have shown up at Maude's place or even maybe at my flat, sniffing around looking for Peter. Well, he was in quod for a spell; got himself tapped for a job with little Alfie Burke and went down for it. 

Never thought I'd think that was a good thing, but if it kept him out of her hands, I'll have to think on that again. Always worried she'd get him truly caught, and I'd end up with the tricksy little bint as a sister-in-law. I THINK my brother is too smart for that, but he's still a man for all a that.

Still, it's best they were wrong, about seeing her, I mean. Not like I didn't have enough troubles as it is. Our father died. Odd, saying it flat out like that. Now Peter, he had a bit more to say, and none of it too kind, and while I understand that, truly I do, it does seem wrong to go bashing the dead. Anyway, they found him in one of the back alleys, down near the docks. Odd, always expected someone to do him, what with his ways, but seems he died of a heart attack, just like a regular person might.

Forget what I said, about it being wrong to go bashing the dead. Old twister! Had a bloke show up on my doorstep not two days after he was found, saying I was 'his'; that our father had 'sold' me, body and soul to him, that night he died. Said he paid a good twenty pounds for me, and intended to claim his property, so I was to pack my belongings along with anything of value in the flat and come along. Now, first off, no bloody twenty pounds had been found on father's body, though that really didn't say much. He could have taken the money, used it to pay off some of his more pressing creditors. Or he could have been rolled for the money. Who knows? Notice I'm not saying "my father would NEVER have done something like that!" I'm not stupid, nor as foolish as that. After all, he'd tried earlier, a time or two even, before Peter put a stop to it, along with a right hard fist to his head. Could just see him thinking Peter being tucked away for awhile would be a right good time to try again.

I remembered I'd seen this one hanging around the past couple of days, but there had always been Maude, or Marisol, or Cam or Mike or Charlie or someone of the others right beside me, and he'd never come too close. Now, standing there with my jaw hanging open, listening to his blather, I looked over to see Peter and some of his mates standing there listening as well; saw my brother walk over and drape an arm around the bloke's shoulders, told 'im, "think we might need to discuss that little transaction, mate," and they were gone. 'Adn't even know Peter had been released, yet there he was.

 

Never talked about it again, Peter and me, though Mike had patted me on the shoulder next day, told me, "dinna fret, Mavis darling. Were keeping an eye out for him, in case he made a try, just like Maude told us he might. Doubt he'll be back, you know. Didn't seem to like the surroundings, as they were." I started to ask Maude how she knew, but she didn't seem to want to discuss it, and I found I was just as content to let it be. Still, I do have to wonder.

 

***

Little bitch! Coming around, all po-faced, wanting to know if I knew where Peter was! Said she'd written him, but never a reply. Said she was right worried.

Who did she think she was? And just who did she think she was fooling by that act, anyways? Maude knew quite well Peter had been captured, was sitting in a jerry prison camp in Germany; I had told her my own self. Not like Maude would have kept that secret from the girl; never could tell the Brat no!

Could have written him through the Red Cross, couldn't she have, just like I did? Didn't take so much - his name and rank and his unit, that he'd been shot down in Germany. The Red Cross was real good about forwarding on letters, even when he'd been transferred around; it took some time, but wasn't like he'd dropped off the edge of the world, now was it? Always 'so smart' Peter and Maude and Marisol had claimed; could have found out how easy as anything. But she hadn't, seems like. Hadn't written to Peter or anything in ever so long, according to the letters SHE'd gotten from her big brother.

NOW she was interested? NOW she was worried? After all this time? Hummmph! Right! You'd have thought she got the message when I didn't answer her first letter asking about him, started sending the others back marked "sender unknown and would like to keep it that way". Three or four times of that, she stopped, at least with me. Shouldn't be surprised if she didn't keep after Maude, though; Maudie never could see through her. Maybe by the time Peter's home again, the little bint will have wandered off somewhere. Be the only good thing to come of this whole mess!

 

***

Feel a bit like a fool, I do. Well, even more than that. That last letter from Peter, didn't say much about it, just enough, but then he knows how I've always felt about her, his 'Brat'.

Still, got a really funny feeling reading that part - "got a whole big parcel of letters from the Brat, just this week, dating back from even before I was shot down. Seems they'd been sitting in a different camp all this time; seems someone at the Red Cross got their wires crossed at the sending point, something about a name or a number or some such rot. A RC inspection brought them to light and got them sent on to me 'ere. Coo, one every two weeks, just like always. Gonna take my time reading them, starting from the beginning; should keep me going for quite awhile. One a my bunk mates said it looked like Christmas 'ad come early from the smile on my face. Never 'ad a Christmas like this; well, we didn't 'ave too many big ones did we, Mav? Just think on it, every two weeks, just like always, without fail. Can't believe I doubted 'er now - that's the Brat for you; she says she's gonna do something, you might as well believe 'er. Without fail, that's my Caeide-girl." 

Gave me a real odd feeling too, seeing how much those letters meant to him. He'd not mentioned that, more than once or twice, that she'd stopped writing; never did say much, though I could tell he was disappointed in her. Hadn't realized just how much those letters would mean. And 'my Caeide-girl'? Never heard him call her that before. 

Still don't like the connection, but it's good he has something to look forward to, and seems like those letters of hers might be just that. I have to respect her for that, if for naught else. And when he gets back, well, there'll be plenty of others to get his attention. Still, I don't think quite so harshly of her now. Not saying I like her or anything like that, but still . . .

 

***

Don't know how he found me, this Ian O'Donnell. Can't have been easy; I left the East End after those bloody bombs left the place in a shambles. Bennie, he'd been after me for some time to come further north, said he'd see I wanted for naught. Well, that was a bit optimistic and more than a little silly, it being wartime, and there being plenty of things to 'want' for. Still, I knew how he meant it. But I didn't, not for a long while. I was a city girl, not sure how I'd deal elsewhere, and then there was my big brother.

Yes, I'd quite a liking for Bennie, could see myself settling down with him. But I'd hoped Peter would be back first, making sure they got along alright. My big brother, well, he hardly walks the straight and narrow, and can be quite the ass when he wants to be, and Bennie was rather judgemental and very much a minister's son, and I couldn't see spending the rest of my life stepping in betweenst them. And for that notion Bennie had come up with, that Peter and Bennie's older sister Philippia might take a liking to each other - well, the less said about that the better! Only goes to show you Bennie had never met my brother! Philippia took one look at me, my manner of dress, heard a bare two sentences of my East End accent, and looked likely to faint. Peter would have . . . Oh, well, never mind, and maybe I was wrong about all that anyway. Peter had a way of attracting some unlikely types, after all. I still remember that Duchess, and you could hardly get much more unlikely than that! Still, wasn't like he married any of them.

But after my flat was gone, along with every thing I owned in this world, and my place of work, well, Bennie showed up and didn't take no for an answer, just bundled me up and off we went. Left word at the local shelter, with a list of those I'd like word from, but didn't have much hope there. The matron was nice enough, but running a mile a minute and looking dead on her feet. Doubt she'd remembered me two seconds after we left.

Still, here was this nice young man, asking if I was Mavis Newkirk, Peter Newkirk's sister. When I admitted it, and I have to admit to something else - my heart had been in my throat, thinking he was bringing bad news about Peter or some of our friends - he smiled and said he was Ian O'Donnell, he had some news, some information and an invitation. Well, we invited him in, my Bennie and me, Bennie staying close at hand just to be sure there was no trickery going on.

Could have knocked me over with a feather, you could have. Said his sister had sent him, Caeide, the Brat. Said his brother had been looking for and had found Maude and Marisol, was giving them the same invitation he was giving me. That Caeide said to tell us, "Come, if you are willing. There is a place of perhaps greater safety, food, shelter, a place by the fire. Most welcome will you be here."

I have to say, I was caught unawares, shocked. My Bennie was all tight-lipped, starting to tell the man, Ian, that I was well provided for, didn't need any charity from strangers, but he quieted when I put a hand on his arm, told him I'd explain the connection later.

No, I'd not take up the offer; I was well contented to ride out this war, the rest of my life, with Bennie. Still, it meant something, especially as we'd never seen eye to eye, never had any fondness between us, Caeide and me. Oh, Maude and Marisol, yes, I could see that, but me? 

That was on my brother's behalf, and I knew that, and that meant something. Perhaps at one time I would put this down as some tricksey play on her part, thinking to make Peter indebted to her, pull him closer into her snare. Now? Now, after I'd found out she'd never stopped writing, it had all truly been a foul-up by the authorities, I no longer believed that. After all, she could as easily have told Peter that she'd TRIED to find me to make an offer, but hadn't been able to; that would have served as well, I'd think, if she had trickery in mind.

Still, there was no need. Perhaps if I hadn't been well settled I might have taken her up on her offer, at least for awhile, though I knew it wouldn't have been an easy thing on either side, there being no affection there. Perhaps the shared caring for Peter, the shared worry would have allowed us to rub along tolerable well, who knows, but I was glad not to have to put it to the test.

I did wonder, though, if Maude and Marisol might not take her up on the offer; they'd always seemed to think of her as family of a sort. I was not surprised later to get a letter from them, telling me they'd done just that, and well content were they. After Ian had left, after he'd pressed an envelope into my hand, "just in case, you know; and my card if you should need aught," though giving Bennie a firm nod of understanding at the same time, me and Bennie sat down, and I told him the whole story.

"Mayhap the girl means your brother no harm, Mavis; seems like it, from what you've told me," and was kind enough not to remind me of all else I had to worry about with Peter, for I'd been as honest as I felt I could be, short of betraying any confidences or anything that might put Peter beyond the pale with my husband. Admittedly, that had been quite a lot.

And I had to admit, part of it was jealousy, as much as worry. Peter had a way about him, had never lacked for companionship, that and more, but he'd been careful not to become entangled, never to give his heart. Now I realized that had partly been from inclination, but perhaps partly from his concern for me. Perhaps Maude had been right; perhaps I'd been afraid of losing him, should he do so, become attached, I mean, especially to someone so foreign to our life. Afraid of having our lives set on end. Well, the war had come along and done that rightly enough, and it hadn't taken one redheaded girl to get the job done.

It seemed a little short-sighted, at that moment - when I'd experienced the fear of losing Peter to those he'd be at the mercy of, off in quod; then in service; now in a bloody prisoner of war camp. Suddenly, the danger of 'losing him' to a redheaded Brat didn't seem the most I had to worry about concerning my most beloved big brother.

 

***

We'd been told the camps were being liberated, that our men would soon be coming home, but no one could tell us when or how or much else. Letters had stopped arriving more than three months before; Red Cross had warned few were getting through on the other side. From that, though they'd not said so, it was obvious naught else was getting through either, and the stories told by the first men returning, the stories and their dire condition, let those of us who waited know that conditions had deteriorated greatly in the camps.

Finally, it wasn't the authorities, the military, the Red Cross that got the word to me, but a letter handed to me in the street. I looked at it in puzzlement, at the odd return address, some name I'd no clue how to pronounce, someplace in Wales. I hurried back to our small house to read it in privacy. Bennie found me like that, sitting like a frozen lump at our kitchen table, that letter open in my hand. He took the letter when I held it out to him, and read it aloud, as if I'd not already read it through a dozen times or more.

"Dear Mavis. Caeide asked that I take up the pen to write you and let you know our dearest boy is here! Do not take offense that he came to us first, for truly no offense was intended.

He returned by transport ship along with so many others, and I fear he'd not fared well, though we are caring for him most diligently, I assure you. We've had the doctor in, of course, and the three of us - me, Maude and Caeide - are with him round the clock. It was a pitiful sight when we first set eyes on him, but one of the most wonderful at the same time, having him back where we could care for him properly.

Once we get some of the more obvious issues resolved, we will see about putting some weight back on him; I know Maude is already thinking of the best dishes to tempt his finicky appetite and ever-delicate digestion. For right now, though, broth and weak tea is all he can manage, though I can see signs of improvement, since he had the wherewithall to complain about the tea this morning. 

I must tell you honestly, Mavis, when he first arrived, the lung complaint was perhaps the worst I've seen it while he was still upright, his gut twisted from lack of food and the swill of what little food there had been. An infection from a poorly-treated wound was taking its toll, and he had been quite feverish when he disembarked; it seems there were far too few medical people there to assist, and he managed to slip away from any that approached him, not quite trusting their intentions. Anyway, as we understand it, he wandered the East End, finding it as you might imagine.

Amazingly, he was able to find help from a stranger, who got him settled and on his way to where Peter, in his confusion, told him he was headed - to Caeide's place in Wales. Although few strangers come here, we were lucky. The station master's wife insisted her husband bring Peter to us straightaway, and it was with glad cries of joy that he was received.

He is far from well, though we have firm intentions that that will soon be quite changed. We will write you and keep you informed of his progress. The letters will be delivered as this one was.

Any that you write should be sent c/o Michael O'Dell at the address below. There are certain difficulties, you see, and there is no sense courting trouble. Again, please be assured he is being given the very best of care, just as you would want. Signed, Marisol"

Bennie held me as I cried, both in relief that Peter was home and in good hands, in sorrow that I was not there to help. There had been no invitation to come and help, of course; Marisol knew I was unable to do so, her knowing of my Bennie having been injured at his place of work and needing me at his side. He was still in his rolling-chair and would be for some time yet, though the doctor had promised he'd recover totally if we took proper care. That first letter, I have to admit, I still don't know what I said, though I know it was tear-marked when I sealed it into its envelope. 

Now, I could only await word of my dear brother's progress, and have faith in Maude and Marisol. Oh, yes, also in Peter's 'Brat', the one he'd said was 'without fail'. For the first time, I prayed that it would be so, and that between the three, they could carry him through the rough times ahead.

 

***

The letters passed back and forth, and yet I'd not seen him, face to face. My urging him to come and visit had no result, except for some cautiously worded explanations that "might be a bit toasty for me back there yet. 'Ave to wait and see." 

Finally, I lost patience and insisted if he would not visit me, I, we would come to see him, and that he was to write and give me directions immediately. That didn't happen, though Bennie and me were told to get a traveling case together and be at the Burnside field at a certain time, and to say nothing to anyone about it. I have to say we were both a trifle apprehensive, going off without a word to anyone, but we did as we were asked. That same young man, Ian, was waiting and loaded us into a small plane that made me nervous just to look at, never mention thinking about riding in. He'd just laughed, though kindly enough, "she's a trusty lass, she is; you needn't worry - we'll get there safely enough. I know Peter is looking forward to seeing you!"

Well, maybe me, but I had felt a certain reserve in his letters concerning Bennie. They'd never met, and had only my words to describe them to each other; like as chalk and cheese, the two of them, though I loved them both, and I could only hope for the best.

He was steady enough on his feet, it seemed, and gathered me in a tight embrace that seemed as if he'd never let me go. But then he laughed and did, and I could see his face clearly for the first time, my tears now having been brushed aside. I'm sure my smile faltered, for there were scars, too many scars, one very deep one running along his cheekbone, mirroring another fainter one only a fraction above. 

Ben cleared his throat, and I remembered to make their introductions, then Maude and Marisol. It was Peter who introduced Caeide, who'd been busying herself laying out scones and fresh bread, putting a coffee pot and cups to the ready, offering to make a fresh pot of tea if we preferred. Well, of course, what did she think . . .! 

Ah, forget that, it was ungracious of me. It seems my original dislike of her hadn't faded entirely, was all too ready to leap to the foreground. Still, the sight of Peter sitting at her table, her hand touching him so gently at his shoulder, seeing him smile up at her, it all set my nerves on edge. 

That wasn't the only awkwardness, of course. Seems Peter and Bennie didn't have a common ground for liking either. Peter seemed suspicious of Bennie and his motives, though wasn't THAT the biggest piece of nonsense ever! Wasn't like my Bennie hadn't proved himself over and over again! It wasn't our fault Peter hadn't gotten to know him before we settled in together! Of course, that wasn't fair, either, but that didn't seem to help, nor the fact that Ben looked at Peter and Caeide with little approval, and none there at that place looked at my dear Ben with more than politeness either.

It might have gotten tense enough to spoil the visit if Maude and Marisol hadn't taken a firm hand with us, pulling Peter and me into the kitchen with them for a private sit-down and lecture. Still remember Maude snorting, "could easily tell you're brother and sister, you two! Still possessive as all get out, thinking no one could be good enough for the other! Well, Peter, seems Mavis has found her someone she cares for, who does well by her, and maybe you should just step back and be pleased for her! Yes, and I can see you don't fancy Ben, and I can understand that; I have to say he's not someone I'd want to cozy up to either."

I bridled more than a little at that, but a quick reproving slap on my forearm by Marisol made me bite my tongue, brought me back fast enough, to continue listening to old Maude.

"But, the thing is, no one's asking you to cozy up to him, now are they? At least, I don't think Mavis is so foolish as to be expecting that."

"And you, Mavis, mayhap you will never see any good in our Caeide, but there's plenty there, whether you can see it or not, and Peter couldn't be more loved and cherished than he is, nor have anyone care more for his well-being. Frankly, I misdoubt you'd ever meet the lass OR lad you'd think was good enough for him, though best not say that in front of your Ben, about the lads, I mean, for I get the impression that would just set him off, being the perhaps a bit overly judgemental type that it seems he is."

"Still, you're only here for another three days; I think a bit more effort could be put forth from the pair of you, aye, Mavis, and your Ben as well. His reproving frowns and downturned mouth and pious lectures are a bit wearing on us all. At least, try not to stir him up; that benefits no one, nor your snipping at Caeide about some foolishness like you were this morning. I've not seen her trying to put YOUR back up. If she can be a proper gracious hostess, you can be a proper gracious guest, it would seem like to me."

It wasn't easy, to be sure, setting aside the old grievances and at the same time soothing my Bennie. I managed, though, enough to weedle some concessions from my husband.

Knowing Maude would not be pleased, but proceeding anyway, I DID try to convince Peter to return with us. Ben, rather reluctantly, had agreed to offering him shelter until Peter found a place of his own, even help in finding him employment, "though it's up to him to make a go of it, Mavis, and although I don't wish to cause you distress, I can't say I've any great confidence in his doing that. Frankly, I have my doubts of your brother making a success at anything except going straight to the devil."

Luckily I'd made that offer to Peter (though leaving out Ben's overly harsh comments) in private as well, for while my brother's refusal had not pleased me, his further explanation of at least one or two of the reasons made me run cold inside.

I hadn't heard that bedamned broadcast with Berlin Betty or whatever the dreadful female's name was, though I suppose many had; I was lucky, I suppose, that by then I was with Bennie and no one made the connection; if Bennie had, he had been considerate enough not to make an issue of it.

I did know I would have to explain to Bennie, that it was all part of some secret war effort, but that it wasn't to be spoken of. I wondered if he'd believe me, though; as you can gather, he truly had no great opinion of my Peter, though he tried very hard not to blame me for my 'ne'er-do-well scamp of a brother'. On my part, I tried very hard not to blame my Bennie for taking that attitude, seeing as how it was probably reasonable from his point of view. My Ben wasn't from the East End, in fact was a Shropshire minister's son and a solid business man, and it showed; what he ever found attractive in me, I'm sure I couldn't say, though it's glad I am that I did catch his eye. He might not be to everyone's taste, but he suits me well enough. Still, him and Peter? Ai!

But as far as Peter having just wandered off, not properly dismissed from military service? Bennie wouldn't be likely to see that as a state to be continued, would probably press most fervently for that to be remedied and most quickly, might even think to take a hand in it himself, and I just didn't see that going well. Besides, Marisol had assured me that they were working on that, but it would take time to do it right.

And, against my own better judgement, certainly against my personal inclinations, I made myself spend time with Caeide. Well, it wasn't as if she'd not made the attempt, I have to admit that. She took me around the house, and I have to admit it was quietly impressive, nothing flash, but good and solid and practical. I had little interest in the land or the livestock, though Ben did seem to take some interest there. I believe he was impressed with it, overall. That huge dog intimidated the both of us, though Ben's protestations to having her in the house were met with cold glances from everyone and a muttering from Caeide that I'm sure I must have misunderstood.

Still, it was not easy between us. I kept trying to see the grown-up Caeide, instead of Peter's 'Brat', but seemed to have an untoward amount of difficulty managing that. When I admitted that to Peter, he'd given one of the few outright laughs I'd heard from him since our arrival.

"That's most likely because she still IS the Brat, Mav; always 'as been, since you've known 'er. 'Ave to admit, I made a good effort back then trying to convince meself she was little more than a child, but wasn't true, not then any more than now. No, the Brat she was, the Brat she still is, though with a few more years, a few more scars, a few more bad memories. Well, we've all got those, 'aven't we?" and his face had gotten drawn, a little scary, before he seemed to realize and brought a smile back to his face.

"She still makes me uncomfortable, Peter," I had to admit, and got his solemn acknowledging nod.

"Expect she probably always will, Mav, you and plenty of others, some with a lot more cause than you 'ave. Still, not like we're living on top of each other, you and me. And I doubt it takes me telling you that your Bennie don't exactly warm the cockles of me 'eart neither. But we'll trudge along, you and me, won't we?"

And somehow the look in his eyes let me know that I would have to accept that, that he wasn't walking away from his Caeide, at least not to come back and just be my big brother again. I did wonder just how long he could be content in this middle of nowhere place; he'd been such a man of the city, both the down-and-dirty streets and the glitzier atmosphere of the theatre district where he'd started to make a name for himself in between other, shadier jobs. I suppressed a snort of my own at the thought.

{"My Peter, on a sheep farm? We'll see how long that lasts, Caeide or no Caeide."}

 

***

I'll admit those first letters telling me about Andrew Carter coming to stay at Haven did perk up my spirits. I'd heard aplenty from Peter about Andrew, and had rather thought there was something special between them. Oddly enough, though there had been plenty in his letters about his commanding officer, that Robert Hogan, there'd been no mention at all since he'd returned home, at least not to me.

Although I'd never made a mention to my Bennie, certainly, knowing how that would be received, I'd known from my early years that Peter was what would eventually come to be termed, perhaps, an 'equal opportunity lover'. I DID wonder at Caeide being so naive as to accept Andrew being there, wondered that she would feel so confident that she would overlook what should have been obvious to her. Still, I'd known intelligent women put on blinders where men are concerned, and only shrugged at the thought that she would be one of them.

***

The letter telling me I had become an aunt, twice over, did cause me to feel a little sympathy for Caeide. It seemed that my brother was bragging not only about those twins "one with dark hair and blue-green eyes like mine, the other with red curls and brown eyes", but also about "Andrew and me are right proud papas, for certain, and Caeide the finest of mums." 

That seemed a little too much, his including Andrew in the mix, and for the first time it seemed to me that Caeide, no matter how little fondness I felt for her, was rather being taken advantage of, perhaps being more than a little disrespected. I have to laugh now, thinking about how blind I'd truly been, though it would be some time before I came to see, came to accept the truth of it all. 

***

That first visit from Peter, when he came to set up some transfer of funds that he insisted on doing (despite my reluctance), Andrew had come along, and it was a delight meeting him. Even Ben seemed to like him, though Peter obviously still left my dear husband cold, admitting after they'd left that "Andrew seems a nice enough fellow, though I can't imagine why he's decided to stay on with your brother and his wife. Can't see they'd have anything in common. It doesn't seem to me that your brother has changed very much, though I had hoped he might." 

Well, my Ben can wear his own set of blinders, and I was more than a little relieved to have it so. I had no trouble seeing how things were between Andrew and my brother, but it would do no good for Ben to get wise to the true state of affairs. I did think, though, it was just a bit awkward, with both Peter's wife and my husband being kept in the dark like that. As I said, my Ben could wear blinders, but it seems I had my own pair I wore as well.

 

***

It was the next visit that got Peter AND Andrew, along with Caeide and any others of her family, barred from my house. It truly wasn't their fault, no matter what Ben made it out to be. It could as easily have been HIS brother Claude who'd run into an old enemy on the streets of London; Claude had served in the military as well, had been on the ground in France and Germany, had his own disturbing stories to tell. 

Still, that wasn't how Ben saw it. There was the phone call that they were in London, Peter and Andrew, had brought gifts, and would be coming to call that afternoon for tea, if it was convenient. Well, since Ben now worked out of the house, there was no problem with that, and I'd prepared a nice tea. When four o'clock came and went, then the dinner hour, and the night as well, Ben was tight-lipped with annoyance.

"Disarrange our schedules, and all for naught. I see your brother truly HASN'T changed his spots!" Well, that seemed a little unjust, with our not knowing the reason for their absence, but I admit to feeling a little irritated as well.

At least, I'd been irritated til Peter had called. I could barely hear him, and his voice sounded like he was hurt, even scared. I'd had more than a little experience with Peter being hurt, but scared? Very little scared my big brother, at least not that he'd ever shown me. 

Now, his words, though puzzling, sent a thrill of urgency through me.

"Call this number," and rattled off a number quickly, repeating it so I would be sure to get it right. "Tell 'er, Bandersnatch at 3 o'clock, and the bloody bastard's got Andrew. I'm 'eaded to 'er brother's place off Callamet. Tell 'er. . ." and the phone went dead. Numbly I dialed the number, hearing an odd number of clicks, then a voice asking who I wanted, and I could only hope I had it right. "Peter said I was to call her. Said to tell her, "Bandersnatch at 3 o'clock" and all the rest. I was greatly relieved to hear a confident voice reply, "got it. You're at home? Good, stay there. We'll have men there as soon as we can to stand guard. Don't answer the door to any one not presenting the name of the homestead as a password. Don't let your self be lured out; we can't have you being used as bait to entrap them." I stood staring at the phone for a long time before I sat it back down. Believe me, it was not easy explaining THAT to my husband!

No, I'm sure I didn't hear the entire story, though I did get a call assuring me Peter was safe, if a little mangled, and Andrew even more so. Later, there was another call, saying all were safe, but headed back home and would have to visit another time.

Bennie was livid with what little I was able to tell him, and that was even before one of Caeide's brothers had arrived to fill us in on the whole terrifying story. Imagine, the bad luck to have an ex-Gestapo officer, one who knew both Peter and Andrew far too well for their comfort, cross their paths up in London. That the wicked man was still bearing a hard grudge against them, that only compounded the matter, and I suppose it made sense for Bennie to decide Peter and Andrew were a danger to us both. Of course, his way of expressing that was perhaps a little less measured, a trifle more vehement than it might have been .

Patrick, the brother who came to tell us the news, seemed a little taken aback by my husband's attitude, though quickly covering his reaction with a polite smile, though with a decided lack of warmth behind it.

"Well, don't know that we can blame Peter or Andrew, but I can see your point of view." Could see it, but obviously didn't agree with it. 

When Bennie proceeded to condemn Peter's having drawn his own wife, a woman with children to tend, meaning Caeide, not me obviously, into the mix, Patrick didn't even bother to hide his reaction, that snort of amusement. I'd always used the term 'wife', and I was hopeful, then grateful he hadn't bothered to clarify what I knew quite well, that whatever bond there was between my brother and his Caeide, there had been no Christian vows involved. 

"Probably knew she'd have his hide if he tried to conceal anything like that, especially with Andrew being snatched like that! Besides, my sister's no stranger to this Hochstetter and his like, and my understanding is she felt she had an old score, or two or three, to settle with him as well. Not overly forgiving, my sister; well, ANY of my sisters for that matter, and I expect she got one or two or three of the others involved in this as well, maybe their menfolk as well, though capable of handling it without them, to be sure."

When Bennie asked, all tight-lipped, about the possibility of this Hochstetter showing up on our doorstep, Patrick had simply given him an oddly puzzled look, "thought I told you, my sister had an old score to settle. Can't imagine Hochstetter showing up anywhere, except maybe your 'gates of Hell', or somewhere similar. Quite a temper, she has, our Caeide, though perhaps not the worst of the sisters; still think maybe Coura has her beat, at least with firearms and hand-to-hand, though then again, Meghada can send someone up in flames without regret too, and needing no weapon to get the job done, though managing more than a few with ease, and Ciena, well, never seen any her like with a knife, though Caeide comes right close . . ." Bennie's jaw dropped, and he didn't say another word til the man had left. Seems my worrying about whether Patrick would mention Peter and Caeide's unwed state was the least I should have been concerned with!

Then, there was the declaration, "they're not welcome here, none of them, Mavis. I've tried to be patient and understanding, but I'm putting my foot down. Make no mistake about it, they're not welcome and are not to be allowed to enter." There was no arguing with him, and I knew better than even to try, not then.

 

***

The next visit to Haven I made alone, and even that over Ben's protests. I was disappointed, of course, to begin with, hoping with that visit to smooth over the wide rift, but was ever so glad I'd come alone once I arrived at Haven.

Caeide had given birth to another set of twins a few months ago, and I'd really no words that came readily to my lips once I got a good look at those two babes. Oh, the girl, Kat as they called her, she looked like her older sister and Caeide, no doubt about that. But the little boy? Karl was the spitting image of Andrew!

Ben would have turned around and marched out and demanded we be taken back home immediately! Probably would have even found just the right biblical verse to justify it, knowing my Bennie. As for me, I glanced up to see Andrew's broadly beaming face, at my brother's no less pleased one, and Caeide's quietly content look, and knew I had to decide, now, once and for all.

Oh, I'd no intention of abandoning my dear husband, of course; there was caring between us, and I was well used to his little ways. Found his solid respectability and firm moral ground, along with the established middle-class social standing he brought with him and had vested me with through our marriage, at pleasing odds with the ramshackle life I'd known before I met him. But there simply was no chance of mending that rift, not without all the details of my brother's personal life coming out, and if that happened, that 'rift' would be come deeper than the deepest ocean.

The only question was, was I willing to make the effort to be part of both worlds. Jamie and Louisa were clinging to my skirts, tugging on them to get my attention, and I glanced down to see the wonder in their eyes, Jamie's eyes so much like Peter's.

"Got a baby brother and sister, we do, Auntie Mavis, did you SEE??" Jamie crowed, and Louisa nodded enthusiastically, her red curls bouncing. "Like them ever so much, we do," she'd whispered, her eyes shining.

I knew then I wasn't willing to give them up, my brother OR his children. Oh, very well, or his Andrew either, him with that look of overwhelming love in his eyes when he looked at my beloved scamp of a brother, at their children, AND at that Brat. I was going to have to make my peace even with her, that much was plain to see. Luckily, that wasn't so hard to do; seems she felt she had no grudge against me, nor any score to settle, which was perhaps more than I could have rightly expected.

 

***

Once I got back home, the trip wasn't discussed, except one very forced, "and the babes? All is well with them?"

I really felt my answer was honest, well, at least somewhat. "Oh, doing well, and lovely, as are all babies, of course. Take after the other side of the family, though, not Peter so much."

I wasn't sure how long that answer would suffice, but if Ben insisted none from Haven darken his doorstep, and insisted just as firmly that he'd not set foot across theirs, it would bring us all some peace. 

 

***

Though, I never let him override me in my intentions to visit myself, from time to time. So I got to see Liam and Morgana, Liam as like Andrew as was Karl. And surely it was best that I went alone after Scotty and Colin were born; Bennie would most likely have had a heart attack to see those two, Scotty an image of Peter, Colin as like Andrew as could be. Heaven knows what the next ones will be like, for from their latest letter, she's increasing yet again.

That's another thing Ben pursed his lips over, one time going so far as to make a rather crude comment about letting your baser urges control your actions, even once you'd already had 'more than enough children, surely.'

For once, I let him know quite well how I took that. Well, after the doctor said we'd not be able to have children, and knowing how upset I'd been at that idea, if Bennie felt THAT way about it, about that being the only reason for indulging those 'baser urges', then he'd certainly not mind putting his OWN aside. I remember my school lessons well enough, and admittedly, 'Lysistrata' had always been a secret favorite. 

I moved my things to the guest room, leaving my husband in solitary glory in the 'master' bedroom. It wasn't long before Bennie decided perhaps he'd spoken wrong, and while he still looked askance every time Haven had a new arrival, he no longer dared to make any negative comments.

 

***

We've never been truly easy with each other, Caeide and me. Well, nevermind, that's not so overly important. As Maude, bless her soul, was so wise as to point out, we don't live on top of each other and could surely manage for the brief times we come together. Now that my Bennie has passed on, there is an occasional visit here, as well as there at Haven, and I truly do enjoy the children. Caeide and I are pleasant with each other, strive to make the effort, and it works well enough.

I've long gotten over my conviction that Peter would have been better off with someone else; I think Maude was right there as well. I don't think there would have been anyone I'd have felt was right for my big brother. But now, looking at him and his family, I have to admit, I can't imagine him anywhere else, WITH anyone else but his Andrew and, yes, his Brat, their Caeide, and their ever growing family.


End file.
